


One Year More

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Horror, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-13
Updated: 2007-07-13
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:30:17
Rating: Teen & Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: You have one year to make sure.





	1. One Year More

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Have you ever wondered?

 

Where it is that we go when we die, our bodies desecrated and lost.

 

It's closing in now, that time when you have to leave, one way ticket to hell. But what about that brother of yours?

 

He might as well be going down to burn right along with you.

 

But what if he isn't?

 

What if he's going to that place that you don't know about, never dared to think. What happens? Does he forget? Remember? Feel.

 

It's all confusing you, jumbling up those messed up thoughts and directing them to a whole other topic.

 

Tick tock.

 

The clock fading, 

 

You never really knew, what you assured of. Were just as helpless as him when he asked that little question of where he was going.

 

Where those fumbles in the dark would send him.

 

And you had all this time to reassure him, aren't you so happy?

 

You got a year, didn't you.

 

To tell, pass on. 

 

But that isn't what this is about. You know Hell, you grew up with it. Your little family did that for you, yet you aren't resentful, are you?

 

You always knew that you would be going into that dark place, the burning, oh god, you knew how it burned.

 

You saw.

 

From the beginning, you were a bad boy, visiting that nasty corner. There was never a tomorrow.

 

It's about something odd, corrupted.

 

He had sat attentive, sitting, listening, he knew no one else. 

 

And you had ruined him. 

 

Told him in those dark little places as you made him cry out, in pleasure. Pain. 

 

He would be going to the good place, making his brother feel good like that. But you didn't know, did you?

 

You never knew.

 

Never wanted the tears, the looks. 

 

You knew your place.

 

One year.

 

Tick tock.

 

All those days. Hours.

 

It shouldn't take more than a minute. To tell him truth.

 

But you don't.

 

Because, in your mind, you don't want him in wherever.

 

In that place.

 

He's yours. He's going with you.

 

You'll make it feel good. You promise yourself that at night, don't you?

 

That it'll be nice for him.

 

Sammy had always liked the heat. 

 

One year, more fumbles, promises.

 

Bitter sweet. You know he's going with you, you're making sure of it.

 

That he can never go to that place.

 

It's your lesson, your punishment. You have to wait for him.

 

To die and come to you, into the heat made for the bad boys. But you'll protect him, won't you?

 

All the familiar faces around you will blur.

 

He'll see.

 

You have one year more to make sure he'll never make it to the good place, never leave you again.


	2. Madness Settled

  
Author's notes: Written for Mordhena Darkwynn! One Year More, from Sam's point of view.  


* * *

A frown marred your forehead as you stare at the expressionless face looking out into the night.

 

One year. 

 

Waiting for that day when you would wake up, and he wouldn't be there anymore.

 

No one would truly know you then. Alone.

 

He wouldn't be there to wake you from the dreams.

 

To hold you in the dark. Comfort you when no other could.

 

Wouldn't be there when the need consumed you. The want of him, of that taste, smell, sight that he brought at those moments.

 

One year, and you would be lost.

 

To the knowledge that it was your life he had exchanged his own for.

 

Knowing that there would be no tomorrow for you anymore.

 

No anticipation for what made life okay, because he was the only reason you still had this grasp.

 

When the visions of future and past consumed you, when dying faces would look through you and you would know that you couldn't save them.

 

If you awoke to the cold, familiar rooms turned barren without his presence, you didn't think you would be able to stay.

 

Didn't know how to tell him that he was the person who made the madness of your dreams remain there.

 

One year more of waking to his body pressed against yours.

 

Of broken fumbles in the dark.

 

You couldn't bring yourself to turn on the light.

 

Days passed, minutes stolen, hours gone.

 

You stare at that face, closed off, and you wonder.

 

Of his thoughts.

 

You saw the pain, during those moments when they came together.

 

Could feel the tension of his shoulders as he came towards you.

 

Sensed that gleam you saw at times in his eyes. Desperation.

 

And you had to think of your life.

 

What you had both done.

 

What it would mean for you in the end.

 

You had walked into a store for supplies you had forgotten the purpose of, and you had seen.

 

The people of normality and ignorance glancing at you, without admiration of a kill well done, without fear of the blood lust they had seen.

 

Where no one knew you and they gazed for reasons apart from that life.

 

It was a seduction you didn't like to think about. 

 

You knew that when the clock stopped, when he was gone, you could never go back.

 

You could go nowhere.

 

He was your home, your bed, your meal, he was your life.

 

One year less.

 

More.

 

The soft ticking of the timeless clock.

 

A broken silence after it had stopped.

 

One year more, and he would be gone.

 

And the madness would settle in.


End file.
